The King and His Prince
by TheMaggiePZ
Summary: A broken King Schultz, devastated by the death of his brother and running from an unsavory past, seeks solace in bounty hunting. When he meets Django Freeman, the rough wall of his heart slowly begins to crack open. Some slash, but the romance never comes to fruition.
1. Chapter 1- Der Trickbetrüger

The Story of a Fallen King

The falling of the rain was more of an erratic annoyance on the face of Dr. King Schultz. The spring had been damp. His joints were to the point of freezing. Schultz was grateful for the dentistry cart Fritz dragged behind him. He passed a weary hand over his gray eyes.

"The years drag on," he said, "Do they not, Fritz?"

The horse in front of him bobbed his head and snorted. Schultz smirked fondly. Fritz had been with him for years, even before he and Kaspar had sailed on a merchant schooner to America. The sweet horse was a warm reminder of a time gone by.

The sound of a rolling thud met King's ears, and he turned. With a gloved hand, he flipped open the small hinged flap that allowed him to see the interior of his cart.

King exhaled at what he saw. "It seems, my Fritz, that our dear departed Johnny Crank is fidgety even in the afterlife." The good doctor laughed at his quip. The cattle thief Johnny Crank had been known in life for his twitchy demeanor. At that moment, his corpse had proved just as restless. The slack-jawed cadaver lay slumped near the back of the cart, his chin stretched, pressed against the wooden paneling.

"Whoa, Fritz," murmured King. Fritz snorted again before coming to a gentle halt.

King jumped off the cart, his joints creaking. He trotted to the back of the cart, and threw the doors open. Without hesitation, he strapped his fingers under the green suspenders of Johnny. With a grunt, he flipped the corpse onto his back, and straightened out his legs. Placing his hands gently on either side of his face, King adjusted the cattle thief's neck and head. He patted Mr. Crank's forehead. "I hope you're more comfortable," he said, and burst into a low chuckle. He closed the doors again. "Did you hear that one, Fritz?"

Fritz did not snort. "Fritz?" shouted Schultz. He frowned, and latched the doors together before cautiously moving towards the front of the cart. "Fritz, my dear—"

King's blood ran cold in his veins. His tongue suddenly felt too big for his mouth, and his ribs contracted within his chest.

"Hallo, King Schultz."

Standing before him was a brick wall of a woman. She had hair black as tar, and eyes to match. Her countenance was fiercely gorgeous. Her features recalled a painting or a sculpture. Her thick limbs were relaxed, but her hand did not rest on the gun holster to her left. King was not confused by her ease; she could destroy him without a gun if she so chose.

"H-Hallo, Helga," he whispered. His breath caught, deep in his belly. He felt himself begin to sweat. Fritz nickered nervously behind him, and King was dismayed to hear his beloved companion backing away, retreating.

"Und hallo, Fritz!" Helga shouted to the horse. "Und auf wiedersehen!" She flashed a smile, showing all her teeth. They were a stony gray.

"A bounty hunter!" she exclaimed; now addressing King. She held out her arms genially, her black eyes flashing. "And how are you faring?"

King swallowed his heart.


	2. Chapter 2- The Twilight, The Dark

Django stumbled blindly over the yellow terrain. In the sunlight, the yellow rock seemed almost white. It was for this reason that he knew that his were not the only ankles that were steadily losing blood. Sweat dripped into his eyes, and a fly buzzed in his ear.

"Keep up!" shouted the fatter of the Speck brothers. Django scowled in his direction. The fat man was lazily tipping back and forth up on his nag. He took a long drag of water from his canteen. A hot cottony taste in Django's mouth reminded him just how long it had been since he'd last had water.

"I'm gonna kill him," murmured a voice from behind him. Django felt a hot, angry breath on the nape of his neck. "I'm gonna kill him, Django."

"Shut up, Barty," said Django. His voice was tired. His feet were tired. His soul was tired.

"Now hush up, y'hear?" shouted the other Speck. He brought his horse alongside Barty and Django and smacked them with a stick. "We're sellin' you cheap. That means we got less in-cen-tive to keep you around." Django's nostrils flared, and he found a stick under his nose. "Don't cross me, boy."

Django felt a tug in his chest, and in that moment, he found himself back on the Carrugan plantation.

"Don't cross me, boy."

Django giggled softly in the dark. A lock of Hilde's hair was entwined in his fingers. "Whatcha mean, don't cross you?"

"You heard me," she said, and placed her hand gently on his. Her hands were so soft, and her voice was so delicate.

Django smiled into the darkness. "Nothin' but a li'l trouble maker," he murmured.

Her white teeth flashed bright in the dark of her modest quarters. She leaned her forehead against his as they lay side by side, and they fell asleep smiling.

The daydream was interrupted. The sound of one of Django's chain mates attempting to vomit startled him out of the soft reverie. The sweet scent of Hilde's skin soon faded from his memory in the hot sun, and the promise of her love, once so potent, now seemed unreal.

The Speck brothers, though cruel, were indeed dedicated to their jobs. The chain gang marched on through the day and into twilight. Django had found that the anger, and the pain, and the stinging memories faded each day in this twilight and left him with a heavy numbness all throughout his body. Despite the calm that washed over him in the dusky evening, he wasn't sure that he preferred it.

The final rays of sunlight soon slipped underneath the black line of the horizon. As Django's eyes adjusted, he saw the promise of a forest ahead. Better bramble and underbrush to tear up his feet than the jagged rocks of the desert. He knew that they would stop soon, for even the indomitable Speck brothers needed to rest. If they stopped in the forest with the intent of recommencing in the morning, the next day's journey would not be so hot. The man in front of him once again was racked with dry heaves, but with nothing in his body to reject, the action was sadly useless.

They reached the mouth of the forest, and Speck the Fatter slowed his horse to a halt. Django's weary feet cried with joy at the brief rest. Speck tossed a bundle to the first slave in the line. He unfolded the outermost layer, and passed it back. This continued until each of them wore a thin cotton blanket around their shoulders.

"Move out," said Speck brusquely. They entered the forest.

Schultz was calm. The night had always welcomed him as a brother, and he felt an enormous peace.

Fritz nudged his shoulder with his curious nose. He blew spit into Schultz's ear. He chuckled and swatted him away.

"Cease your flirting, Fritz," he said. "We will be in civilized country soon enough, and there we are certain to find you a lovely southern belle." He laughed. Fritz snorted and shook his mane. King looked at him, his eyebrows raised. "Unless it is a beau you seek!" Fritz touched his nose to King's cheek affectionately. "Oh, yes, yes," he said. "I love you too, dear Fritz."

The night fell silent again. King's feet fit snugly into the worn path on which they tread. It was the Greenville path, a hateful, blood-soaked road to a lost humanity. King felt certain that the Speck brothers would arrive on that night.

Fritz whinnied nervously. King scoffed.

"They will come, Fritz," he said. "I have never been wrong in my life."

Surely enough, when the moon was just overhead, the sound of clinking chains met King's ears.

"Time to be off," he said. He climbed onto the cart, and Fritz began to follow the path. He knew he was making a racket, all things considered. The giant tooth that undulated back and forth atop his cart was no accessory to stealth. However, King had no intention of trickery of any kind. Best that they knew of his approach.

King heard a gun cock, and regretted his decision.

"Who's 'at stumblin' around in the dark?" shouted, presumably, one of the Specks. "State your business or prepare to get wing!"

"Calm yourselves, gentlemen," drawled King. "I mean you no harm. I'm simply a fellow weary traveler." He smiled into the darkness that so welcomed him.


End file.
